To Georgia and Back Again
by EveApplefield
Summary: Rosemary Keeny is a poor eleven year old girl, neither pretty nor popular and she would have liked to be raised by a nicer family, but you can't always get what you want. From Georgia and its perverted residents to a megacity animated by a ragtag bunch of sociopaths, will she finally come in terms with herself ? Or will she crumble under the pressure of her family's secrets ?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 :

Esther Rosemary Keeny hated a lot of things.

In fact, she hated so many things that in her private thoughts she separated them between what annoyed her, what she disliked and what she well and truly despised. Among the things that annoyed her, there were normal occurrences like having to walk through the rain when she forgot her umbrella home, those damned birds that woke her up far too early, or her mother's boyfriend who kept trying to stuff her with cheesy pizzas although she was lactose intolerant.

She disliked herself, her scraggly somewhat red-ish blond hair, the sharp angles of her skinny frame, her old-fashioned name, second-hand clothes, terrible acne that resisted treatments, clown feet and the constant embarrassment that clung to her every pore whenever she tried to talk to anyone. To make matters worse, she was already taller than some of her teachers despite being only eleven. She was a disaster for the eyes and occasionally for the ears, if she tried to stutter her way through a conversation. Karen, her mother, might strive to convince her that things would get better over time, but she didn't believe her. When she was her age, she'd already been cute and popular; Rosemary had seen it on the pictures.

But what she truly hated, of a hatred as deep as it was justified, was the disinterested attitude of adults and the vile one of her peers. She hated her locker, it never opened without a struggle and it made everyone around her laugh. She hated the cafeteria because no one would let her sit at their table : she ended up stuck in place while not one person ever came to her rescue. Rosemary had long since learned her lesson and brought her own lunch, still it was humiliating to know that there were places at school she couldn't go. The toilets were another example, being at the same time pestilential but always full to the brim for reasons that evaded her, and the garden behind the main building was her bullies' territory, so she couldn't step a foot there without some sort of insult. Try as she might, she didn't understand how she was more disgusting than the idiots who'd pick up rubbish to throw at her in the trash, so she guessed that in middle school hygiene was relative. When someone pointed out her latest pimple, it didn't matter that the one doing it had greasy hair and darkened nails, she was always in the wrong.

And finally, she thought, she really freaking _hated_ group projects.

If she ever caught the moron who thought it was a bright idea to force middle schoolers to work together, she was going to tan his hide. Or maybe not, she'd have to speak up to do that after all. But still ! It was a nightmare from start to finish : first of all they only wanted to be paired up with their friends, to the point that some girls would cry big fat crocodile tears to get their way and, of course, no one wanted to be seen with her so the teachers had to assign her a partner. Then, either all the work was piled onto one person – usually it was her – or no one did anything except for chatting between themselves. In the end, the class devolved into a giant mess, the teachers got angry, and you'd wasted an hour so you got twice the amount of homework for next week.

Right now, it was even worse. Not only did she have to sit next to some guy who refused to move a finger to help, but the group on her right didn't feel like studying either. They'd taken to throwing papers into her bag, cackling, squealing and giggling among themselves like a mischief of giant rats. It wasn't the first time they did that, so you'd thing she'd gotten used to it, yet she was blushing. That damned ginger skin made her look like some odd, pink creature with orange polka dots, which made them snicker even harder. Their squeaky little shrieks were insufferable.

Losing patience, she snapped her backpack shut to make them stop, but they just wouldn't. One of them even had to cover his mouth to keep from bursting out loud. He really shouldn't have bothered considering the menagerie their English class had turned into. Anyway, Rosemary was busy crouching over her paper to protect it from the spitballs they were now throwing. She made a face when she saw a long trace of spit splatter onto her paper, messing up her ink. Miss Babcock was going to kill her, that old hypocrite. She was a tyrant and yet she still made them pair up sometimes. However on these days she completely gave up any attempt at keeping them quiet and would instead sit at her office with earplugs on and grade papers the whole time. Rosemary wrote her sentence again beneath the stain, ignoring the bullies or the poor shmuck in front of her who'd curled upon himself when they told him he should try groping the nerd, to make her less of a hopeless dyke.

A sharp pain in her back made her jump and she drew a long line all the way onto the table. She took a deep, shuddering breath as the girl behind her stabbed her again with the pointy end of her compass between the shoulder blades. She raised her head and closed her eyes to keep from crying in public. Why were they so horrible with her ? She had good grades, but was not first in every class, she was athletic, she was always clean and she never got in the way ! Was it really her fault if she was ugly, poor and a bit too uptight ? Couldn't they leave her alone instead of jeering and betting she was about to cry ?

When the bell rang, her relief was so intense she almost started sobbing on the spot. She sprang out of her chair, slapped her paper onto Miss Babcock's desk and ran out. Behind her, the gritty voice of the old harpy called her, telling her to come back and clean the mess she'd made. She only stopped for a second. She didn't want to do it. The others were going to laugh at her again and throw things at her to make her punishment last and she just refused to face that longer than she had to. Cheeks burning and stomach sinking, she first stepped a foot in front of her slowly before darting through the hallway when she felt someone brush against her.

No.

NO WAY IN HELL ! NO WAY !

She would not do it, she would not let them do this to her this time ! And anyway ... Anyway there were only a couple weeks left before summer break so they wouldn't have the time to suspend her very long ! Rosemary had never gotten suspended and the thought made her run a little faster but... Yeah, well, screw it, if they weren't going to do their jobs as adults and keep the others from harassing her, why should she be a model student ?

Leaving the main road for the smaller dirt lane leading home, she slowed down, exhausted and crying. She wiped the stream of snot and tears with her sleeve. She was right though ! No one ever told them off, so why was she the one ending up with more work when all she did was defending herself ? Teachers told her that she was too emotional ad that she ought to ignore them, but she did not think it was her fault. In her opinion, that was because their parents came to all the meetings and drove them to school and back home rather than letting them walk for an hour. Because their parents cared, and her mother didn't care enough.

Sniffling, she raised her eyes to the walls of maize bordering the road. They were so tall now, she couldn't see past. Some found it claustrophobic, but Rosemary loved the corn. Once, the others had tried chasing her through the field, they'd given up quickly when they'd realized how sharp the vibrant green leaves were. Here, she was safe. The soles of her sneakers rubbed against the ground as she dragged her feet home. There was no need to rush, no one was waiting for her. Karen was a greeter at a motel near the interstate and she would not come back before ten. Her current boyfriend, Lionel, owned a small pizzeria and took two days off in the beginning of the week because he had too many client on the weekends so she might see him, but she didn't feel like seeing him. He was a creep. She couldn't exactly pinpoint why but... Yeah, he was creepy. He felt creepy. He kept baking her cheesy pizzas that made her sick and wouldn't make anything else even though he clearly saw she got sick every damn time, and she couldn't refuse to eat because her mom would say she was aggressive with her potential step-dad _again, _so she'd end up puking her insides and would have to make it as discreet as possible, otherwise Karen would say she was being dramatic.

Oh screw it ! If she could tell her teacher to sod off, she could say the same thing to her mom ! Served her right. Or at least it would, if anyone even realized she wasn't there since she spent most of the time holed up in her bedroom. Okay, maybe she was a bit moody, so what ? It was a free country, she could do what she wanted. And that included sulking in the maize until death came and took her.

And so she parted the long stalks, her feet hitting the ground harder than necessary perhaps, something she would have never done in public, until she found a good spot. There she sat, wiping the her last tears with the hem of her shirt. Lying on the warm soil, she gaze at the sky, frame by the leaves protecting the golden years. Being eleven was so lame. So, so lame. She sighed. There was one thing that could possibly get her spirits up, but it could just as well make her feel down for the next couple days. Deciding that she couldn't sink any lower, she took out her one-of-a-kind smartphone that her mother did know about and dialed the only number she knew. Calling him was always double-or-nothing : either he'd pick up and she'd feel better or he wouldn't and she cry all night, worried that he might be dead. After an excruciating wait that almost had her weeping, she breathed when she heard his deep, rocky voice on the other end.

Good evening Rosemary.

"Heya Jonathan."

_"Good evening _Rosemary."

She rolled her eyes.

_"Good evening_ Jonathan."

"That's better thank you." She let out a strained giggle. "Is there something wrong ?"

How did he... Oh yeah, when she called him right after school, that was because she felt hurt and hoped he'd comfort her. She bit her tongue, hesitating about her question. After a good minute, she whispered :

"Did mom want me ?"

He clicked his tongue against his palate. "Ah." He said. She bit her lips. When he did that, it meant that the answer was complicated and she wouldn't like it. At least he took the time to explain it. He sighed and she didn't need to see him to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"To be honest I have no idea, and I'm sorry but all I can offer you is an educated guess. "

She loved the serious, soothing tone he used to explain things. It was the one he used last year to guide her through her first period. When the blood had started pouring out she'd been a bit hysterical, it was so painful, and everyone had told her it was supposed to be mildly unpleasant at most, she was sure there was something wrong and she just had to talk to him before she tried to reach her mom at work and embarrass herself for life. Karen still nagged her about the one time when she was four and she'd fallen in a cow turd after trying to climb an electric fence every time someone came by.

Every. Damn. Time.

"Can you tell me though ? Please ?" She begged in a small voice.

"Well first of all, I already know she didn't want me since she abandoned me, so you'll have to excuse me for being very skeptical of her ability to raise children."

Even though he couldn't see her she nodded. He'd told her how abusive their great-grandmother had been after Kare had left him there, knowing how the crone was. He'd showed her the scars littering his forearms when she was seven and she hadn't been able to sleep for days, fearing that the old Mary Keeny would raise from the grave and sick enraged crows on her too. Jonathan had explained that what hurt the most wasn't that she'd abandoned him, she was a lost teenager who wasn't fit to raise an infant, but he couldn't forgive her for leaving him in a place where they hated him so much, without ever turning back.

Rosemary had never looked at her mother the same way again.

"But it was different with you. She was older, she could have used contraceptives, or even aborted."

She nodded. He'd also had to explain how all that worked last year.

" You weren't an accident like me, she must have wanted a child. The problem is... How can I say that... It's rather... Delicate."

He sighed.

"We have the same father. You remember that ?"

She'd never even seen a picture of him but Jon and her looked so alike, it had to be true. Besides, she trusted Jonathan.

"Yeah ?"

" Well, when she went back to him twenty-two years after they had me, he was married with two daughters."

She opened her eyes wide, opened her mouth and let and embarrassing squeak slip past her lips. He'd never told her that. She felt a ball in her throat, making it hard to swallow. He started talking again, without leaving her the time to think.

"Karen wasn't rich and she was in a difficult situation." He said slowly. " However Gerald Crane owned a construction company and he was ... Rather unfaithful. They had an affair, during which I suppose she had you to pressure him to file for a divorce or pay for alimony. It didn't work and instead she married a man called Charlie Jarvis some time after your birth."

She frowned. It was awful and she didn't like it but ... It made sense. And she couldn't her but remember that the name "Jarvis" was still engraved on the mailbox, even though it was faded now.

"Where's that guy ? Charlie Jervis I mean ? It was his house right ? Why's he gone ?"

She heard a soft snort on the other end.

"That's a long story, I'll tell you some other time if you want."

"Alright." She answered softly, still winded by the revelations.

And yet, it wasn't that surprising. No one wanted to talk about her father, Jonathan included, and Karen always seemed annoyed whenever she asked. Moreover, it wasn't as if her mom suffocated her with her motherly love, leaving her unattended for days on end even though they kept talking about murder and kidnappig on the television, never helping for her homework, never coming to meetings and club representations, never spending time with her or... Or...

Under the burning Georgia sun, hidden in a sea of dry leaves, Esther Rosemary Keeny curled upon herself and cried, her phone stuck to her ear, letting the soft voice of the scarecrow poison her mind.

* * *

Translating French into English is truly a thankless job. This used to be 3400 words long.

Translation is Treason.

Anyhow, I've now left college and it's been a while since I've written or translated anything in English, so as a way to practice I'm going to translate Georgia on My Mind, a 70 000 words fanfiction/continuation of _Year One : Scarecrow_ about little Rosemary's trials and tribulations through surviving her family, into something that'll probably amount to 20 000 words in English.

Beta readers / American slang pickers are very very welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 :

In the end she hadn't gotten back home before eleven, having spent the evening talking with her brother about such harmless topics as pastries she couldn't eat or what they'd done last time he'd come over. After that, she'd preferred to read in the field rather than go back to the old farmhouse where she'd have to face her mother. It was a long time ago and there was nothing Karen could do about it now, and yet what Mary Keeny had done because of her, and the way she didn't pay any attention to her daughter now... Talking to her again was going to take a while. Her mother was used to being ignored anyway. Since Jonathan had first contacted her, so long ago she couldn't remember it, there were times when she felt uneasy in her presence. He was a painful remainder of her youthful errors and her inability to handle children. Without him she might have missed that her mother let her dress weirdly as a little kid and use the stove, or that the other parents prepared their lunch for them and applauded in the public at their competitions, meanwhile Karen never did, which made Rosemary suspect that it was not forgetfulness, but a complete lack of interest.

All this deep thinking was nice and all, but she bitterly regretted spending so much time brooding outside when she realized Miss Babcock had sent her a message over the school's website, ordering her to rewrite her paper because she couldn't decipher her chicken scrawl. She also told her to come early the next morning so they'd have time to talk, because she'd called at home several times and her mother had not answered. Not the most welcoming message, but it was still better than being suspended outright. Or, and she gulped at the thought, maybe the old crone wanted to see her to gorge herself on her shame as she was being suspended. Worse, she could make her clean all the spitballs and _then_ suspend her. And so, she stayed up all night working on the essay and her homework with the sole consolation that she didn't have to crawl in front of her bullies.

Being suspended would still be better than a public humiliation.

At six-thirty, the buzzing of her phone woke her up and she fumble to turn it off. Her limbs felt heavy with slumber so she stayed in bed a few minutes, gazing at her side table. The red alarm clock her mother had gifted her last year was still there, gathering dust. The phone was more practical, and she didn't like the ringtone, that reminded her too much of some teen pop her mom was convinced she loved. Still, she kept it anyway to be polite. Rosemary got dressed with her usual, worn trainers that had holes on the sides, a long, flowery skirt and a red shirt with a dinosaur that had been offered to everyone in her class when they'd visited the Fernbank museum in Atlanta. Having reached the truest peak of fashion, she went down the stairs to make herself a sandwich before heading stealthily towards the bathroom. She knew Karen was in there because she'd heard her say something to Lionel when she was still upstairs. Now all that remained was to convince her to bring her to school without revealing that she needed to be at school earlier to have a very unpleasant meeting with a teacher. She found her mother drawing onto her eyebrows, slightly bent over the sink to get as close to the mirror as possible.

Her mother was so beautiful ad Rosemary bitterly remarked that she did not look like her very much. Unlike her children she was thin, but not skeletal, her face was softer, her blue eyes warmer and she took great care in her appearance. The makeup she wore was subtle, both sophisticated and professional and the black dye hid any grey or red hair that might have made her look closer to her age. At nearly fifty years old, she was still able to wear skinny jean and look better in them than Rosemary ever would.

"Good morning mom." She said softly.

Karen turned for a second and smiled before turning back to her reflection.

"Hi Esther ! Did you sleep well ?"

_Rosemary_.

"Mmmyeah. Say, uh, I mean, could you please drive me to school ... Please ?" She asked, her voice becoming fainter and fainter with every word.

"What ? Oh ! No sorry but you can ask Lionel, he's going to the pizzeria right now- LIONEL !" She shouted. "Could you please drive Esther to school ?"

He screamed back "Sure !"from the front of the house and Karen turned to her, smiling.

"Well there you go !" She kissed her on the cheek, her long hair sending a whiff of vanilla in her face that made her sneeze. "Now be nice and don't keep him waiting, will you ? Shoo now !"

Rosemary muttered something unintelligible and scampered away. She loved her mother, really she did, which is why it was so frustrating that she couldn't look at her without thinking about all the awful think she knew about her thanks to Jonathan. He was not innocent either, but that was different because he'd always been honest about it. With her. Well no, not always actually, he hadn't told her when she was really young because he didn't want to scare her away but... It was different. It felt different. She trotted outside when she heard the the door of _his_ pickup truck slam shut. Not wanting to be left behind and hopped inside, bag on her knees and mp3 player clutched in her had in case Number Five felt like talking her ear out.

"Buckle up baby !"

She did so without a word, keeping her eyes on the dust-covered windshield. Rosemary did not like Lionel. First, he made her puke all the time with his cheese obsession and second, of all her mothers' boyfriends he was the only one who wouldn't understand that she was not interested in talking to him, ever. Instead of giving up and leaving her the hell alone he made every effort to talk to her, touch her, give her pet names or spend time with her, to the point that she saw him more than her own mother. That, she could have done without, thanks.

"Did you sleep well ?" He asked, starting the car.

She groaned something halfway understandable that sounded like "myeah" and he sighed. If her answer bothered him so much, why ask ? She turned towards the windows, watching the fields go by. Every time her mother brought home a new "dad", there saw always some new gossip going on about Karen, saying nasty things, like how she was the village bicycle, that everyone got a ride. She squeezed her bag harder. Sorry if it did not make her feel all warm and fuzzy towards all these men, who would inevitably leave.

A large hand touched her thigh, startling her.

"Hey, you alright ?"

She glanced at the radio on the dashboard. They still had eight minutes left before they arrived at their destination. Oh _joy_.

"Mh-m." She groaned, pulling her leg out of his grasp.

"I mean, you look all sad, you got problems at school ?"

Yeah, but right now she was frowning because she disliked being stuck next to him. However Rosemary was delighted that her news about her bad mood had finally reaching his brain, it meant there was still hope for him.

"Nah, s'okay."

Would it be rude to turn up the volume of the radio to cut him off ?

"I don't know, you never bring any of your little girlfriends home. Do you have any ?" He added after a short pause.

Right, okay, she was done now. Rosemary fumbled with her earbuds and let the music drown out the sound of his voice. She never talked to him, no matter how hard he tried, what made him think she was going to confide in him now ? He was Number Five, no more, no less. She had no use for his pity. Obviously he disagreed. He sighed again and stopped the car. She bit her tongue but kept her eyes on the window. They were in the middle of nowhere, lost on a country road between Lotham and Arlen. A heavy, hairy hand tore out the earbuds and she shrunk in her seat.

"You know baby," He started on a tone that sounded sickly sweet to her ears. "Your mom said that you should come to the pizzeria after school."

No, that's not what happened. Karen never gave a damn that her daughter walked back home until a certain someone pointed out that it would be safer for her to come to the pizzeria and wait in the cave. Besides, it would give them more time to connect, wouldn't it ? Her mother had given her assent, even though Rosemary had protested.

"It really would be safer you know ? It's dangerous to be out there alone for a little girl."

Yet she felt more uneasy trapped in this car with him than shielded by a sea of corn. She didn't trust him. The little jump she made when his hand landed on the back of her neck was reflected in the glass.

"It's not an offer, you know. You're coming after school."

Her hands clung to her bony knees. There was no way she'd stay alone in a cave with Lionel.

"Mmkay." She said without any intention of holding her word.

Lionel did not try to spark up the conversation after that, rolling his eyes before he turned the ignition. They were silent for the rest of the trip, which made her happier. Finally arriving at school she threw her backpack onto her shoulder and was going to jump outside when she felt a little guilty. Rosemary didn't like him, she made sure he knew at every occasion but he drove her to school anyway without a complaint, something her own mother couldn't do.

"Uh... Thanks for the ride." She said, struggling to speak up.

He beamed at her and snaked an arm around her waist to plant a kiss on her temple. She shivered. She really, really didn't like it when he touched her, but he'd been nice so it was the least she could do.

"You have a nice day babe !"

"Uh, yeah, same." She muttered, while getting away from him as fast as she could.

Even though she was now free of his unwanted attention, she now had to get into into the tall, whitewashed building and face the horrible Miss Babcock. She pushed the doors open and peered inside. The hallways where still empty of course, and it reassured her a little. She closed the door carefully to keep it from making a sound before swallowing, her throat too constricted for words. For a second she'd thought shed' heard something, but it was just the caretaker. The squeaks of her trainers echoed around her as she walked towards the teacher's lounge, where she'd been told they would meet. Once she was in front of the door she bit her lip, unsure of what to do. It was a simple oak door, yet it felt more sinister, like the forbidden door in Bluebeard, the one that-

"I heard you Miss Keeny !"

... There was no room for doubt anymore, her English teacher was a vampire.

" Oh for the love of-" She said when she heard her knock on the door. "_Of course_ you can come in !"

Bottom lip between her teeth, she took a few timid steps into the teacher's den. If she was surprised she didn't show it. Apart from a few educational posters taped to the walls it was rather spartan. The room itself was small, with only a xerox machine, a file cabinet with a large succulent on it and a couple tables that had been put together in a longer one, at which Miss Babcock was seated. She was looking down on her, piercing eyes framed by her sharp red glasses. Rosemary gulped. Maybe it was time to throw her paper on the table and high tail it out of here. Students were not supposed to be there !

"Good morning Miss Babcock" She said, holding out her essay. "I have done the document analysis."

"I certainly hope so. " She replied dryly. "Sit down."

Obedient as ever, she fell into the closest chair. Then she put the paper on the table since it felt silly to keep holding onto it. Babcock crossed her hands and sighed but didn't say anything. Should she ask if she was going to be suspended right now ? Maybe she'd let her go faster. Or maybe not. Maybe she had forgotten ?

"I would have hoped to see your mother Miss Keeny."

Batty old hag. She had not forgotten. Her head sunk into her shoulders.

"Did she drive you here this time ?"

This time ? What did she she mean by that ? She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Had she been watching ?

"Oh, uh... Her boyfriend drives me here..."

Her disdainful snort was accompanied by an odd sort of nod that made all of her platinum blond hairdo tremble. It had to be a wig. She made sure not to stare.

"I see. Do you have many chores at home ?"

Was there any issue with her homework ? It wasn't bad was it ? She had good grades though. Maybe someone had stolen her worksheet again ?

"Oh uh ... Well it depends ? I mean he does stuff when he's here, but mom's home late so... I don't know ... I just clean up, do the dishes, warm up dinner... that kind of things."

She started fidgeting in her seat, feeling anxious. It was weird to talk about that with a teacher, especially one looking so stern, like every word out of her mouth was a mistake. Her nails slowly, rhythmically clicked on the table for a few seconds.

"Do you live far away ?"

She bit her lip.

"... Why ?"

"Well I see you walk here every morning, surely you must not live very far ?"

Making sure she still looked awkward and embarrassed it wasn't hard - Rosemary lied.

"Yeah it's a ten minutes' walk."

"I see. You may leave Miss Keeny, that will be all."

Too happy to have avoided suspension, she stumbled onto her feet, hit another chair, almost forgot to say goodbye and ran away.

It was only a few hours later, when she was eating her sandwich while hidden in a cupboard, that he feeling of dread crept into her gut; she wondered, rightly so, if she'd "seen" anything dangerous.

Eh. She shrugged.

Probably not.

* * *

Hello again ! Took me a while to feel motivated to translate this one, but it's finally out. Feel free to criticize, point out all the horrible, glaring mistakes and -who knows ? - leave a review !

As always Beta Readers/ American Slang pickers are welcome.


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